Fruits of War
by MaesterDimentio
Summary: Isaac had only ever wanted a simple life. Then a dying man entrusts a case filled with strange objects to him. As odd creatures and powerful warriors start to roam the land, and a mysterious forest begins to encroach upon the world, Isaac will be faced with a responsibility beyond anything he could have ever imagined.
1. Prologue

Isaac's arms were burning as he let the axe fall to the ground. Woodcutting was always a part of his daily routine that he absolutely dreaded, but at least he seemed to have enough for the night. Breathing a tired sigh, the skinny youth lowered himself to the ground and lay on his back. His arms felt like they were on the verge of falling off and his chest felt like it had been pierced by a knife, but he allowed himself a small smile anyway; this was his worst chore, and aside from getting tonight's meal from the garden, he was done for the day.

"Maybe I should head down to the pond," he wondered aloud. His blue eyes stared up at the tree branches above him and at the blue sky beyond them. "It's a beautiful day. I could probably get a good nap in." He yawned loudly and scratched at his red hair. "Or… I suppose here is just as good a place as any…"

His tired eyes stayed fixed to the tree canopy. Isaac knew that there were those who would likely consider the way he lived lazy and slothful. He would fully admit that they were not wrong – he was lazy, in the sense that he did very little. Not that there was much to do in the woods that he called home, aside from his daily chores or the occasional bit of hunting and fishing. Personally he liked to consider his life simple, just like the cabin that he lived in.

It was how peaceful the woods could be that made him choose to live there, rather than one of the nearby towns. Even the smallest towns seemed to have too much hustle and bustle for him, and the closest one, Southtown, was a small trading hub that was constantly busy. There were always noisy horse-drawn carts and the market was filled with people constantly shouting about how their wares were the best this side of the capital – he had long since decided such a place was too much for him.

Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered that the month was coming to a close and that he would soon have to take a trip into Southtown to get a few essentials.

In these woods, however, cut off from the rest of civilization, he had to deal with none of that. The most noise that he had to deal with was from the occasional storm that blew through, or the cries of the beasts and birds that also called the forest their home. A peaceful and quiet life was all that he wanted and that was what he had.

Feeling a fresh wave of exhaustion bearing down on him, Isaac yawned and closed his eyes, eager to get in a quick nap.

* * *

In another world entirely, Isaac was running for his life. Driving rain was coming down around him and thunder was roaring up above. His boots slapped against the sidewalk as he desperately tried to evade his pursuers, but already he could hear the sounds of their approaching cars. Still he kept running, clutching the briefcase in his arms ever tighter against his chest.

He had never expected things to go this wrong, or to discover something so heinous. He had been part of a small animal rights group that was investigating the rumored shady practices of the new American branch of Yggdrasil, a Japanese company that was starting to expand across the globe. They had busted into the branch's main labs, expecting to find some sort of information about corrupt practices or what those Inves creatures that had become so popular were.

As far as he knew, he was the only one of his group to get out of that building alive. The sounds were still fresh in his ears: the screams of his friends, the chirps of those monsters – the sounds of gunfire that drowned everything else out.

"I have to get out of here!" he panted as he dove down a side street, hoping it might throw off his pursuers. "If I can just let someone know what they're planning – those sick bastards!"

He heard a car pass behind him then slam on its breaks. Car doors opened and people started to shout to each other. Isaac swore and doubled his pace, looking every which way for some way out of this situation.

All he saw was the entrance to an alleyway off to the side. It was either a dead-end or it lead to another street that he'd keep running down – either way, he could hear the men chasing him getting closer, and it was by virtue of how heavily the rain was coming down that they did not immediately spot him.

It was a split-second decision that made him turn into the alleyway, trying to make as little noise as possible as he ran past trashcans and refuse. Then he saw the looming brick wall ahead of him and realized his mistake. "Dammit!" he shouted, not caring if the Yggdrasil goons heard him. They would find and search the alley anyway, and that would be it. The company had its claws in the media, and they would probably spin his death as another incidence of the gang violence that plagued the West Coast.

Unless…

Remembering the briefcase that was still pressed into his chest, remembering what was _inside_ of that briefcase, remembering the news reports of those Armored Riders in Japan – Isaac had an idea. A stupid, desperate idea that would probably get him into even more trouble with Yggdrasil, but they were already trying to kill him. He had nothing else to lose at this point.

He undid the clasps holding the case shut and threw open the lid. He stared at its contents and his hand trembled as he reached in and touched them. This was it. No turning back now. He would do it. With this he could get out of this and expose Yggdrasil for who they were-

"Open fire!"

The first round hit him between his shoulder blades. He did not have time to scream as more bullets tore into his body. He was not even sure where he had been hit – he was too shocked and numbed by what was happening. Slowly Isaac started to fall forward, scattering the contents of the case as he hit the ground. Yet his fingertips could still feel the cold metal of the belt. It was so close; he had been so close.

He felt the cold spreading through his body and knew it was over. Isaac did not fight it. He closed his eyes, oblivious to the approaching soldiers and to their sudden stop. He was unaware of the crack in reality that had opened up above him and of the green tendrils that were pouring out of it. He did not even realize that they wrapped around him and pulled him through, along with the belt and the rest of the case's contents.

* * *

Isaac woke up with a start. There had been a loud boom, like a clap of thunder, but that could not have been what woke him up. The sky was cloudy but not overcast, and there was not a single gray cloud in the sky. And there was something in the air, a strange tension that seemed suffocating to him. Slowly he rose to his feet, heart pounding and mind racing as he tried to figure out if he should make a break for his cabin or not.

Then he heard it – the silence. He had not noticed it when he first awoke, but now that he was listening, he realized he could not hear anything. No chirping birds, no rustling plants, no cries of the local wildlife. It was something he had heard before, just before a massive storm that had devastated the woods and the surrounding countryside, when the animals had left the area to escape the coming tempest.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized something bad was about to happen. Or that it was happening right now and he could be in the middle of it. Slowly Isaac began to walk towards the door to his cabin, eyes casting wary glances all about him as he made his way to his hopefully safe home.

It was quiet, but as Isaac was reaching for the front door of his home, he realized that there was one sound present in the forest. It was breathing, soft and uneven, and it was coming from somewhere nearby. _No,_ he realized _, not nearby. Here_.

It was coming from around the back of his home.

Was it worth checking it out? Should he just ignore it and head into his cabin, bar the door, and pray to Naga that whatever it was he would be safe from it?

Then he heard the pained moan.

"Oh gods…" Isaac gasped. He ran back for his axe and grabbed it, just in case he was wrong and he was still in danger. Then he slowly started to head to the rear of his house, keeping close to the wall. He had the axe ready to swing and was gripping its wooden handle so tightly he was afraid it may break. Inch by inch he edged towards the corner. When he finally made it, he slowly peered his head around it, ready to jump back if something attacked.

Instead he dropped his axe in shock and disgust. There, lying in the middle of his garden, was a man – a man close to death, if the amount of blood seeping from his wounds was any indicator. He felt a touch of panic at seeing someone so far into the forest and so near his home, but he forced it aside; now was not the time for anxiety.

He rushed over to the man's side, eyes widening as he saw the severity of the man's wounds. The man was lying face-down, letting Isaac see the numerous small holes that riddled his back. They seemed to be all over his body and Isaac was at a loss at what to do. He was no stranger to getting hurt and had even managed to patch himself up at times, but something of this severity? He doubted that even the healer at Southtown would be able to fix such dire injuries.

"Gods no," Isaac muttered as the realization hit him. "I… I'm so sorry. I wish I could help you, but…"

All of a sudden the man made Isaac jump in surprise when he took a sharp breath. "The case…" the man croaked out. "Where's the case?"

Knowing that the man's words were likely his last, Isaac looked around for this case he was talking about. Sure enough there was a small briefcase made of metal lying on the ground. Its lid was already opened but it only took a moment for Isaac to see that its contents were nearby. He quickly gathered them up and went back to the man, pressing the case into his hand. "It's here. Please, just try and stay calm."

Slowly the man shook his head. "No… Yggdrasil's still-" He suddenly coughed, blood spattering onto the ground. A pierced lung and who-knows what else. He did not have long. "They're after it… After me… Trying to kill… innocent people."

The man placed his hand onto Isaac's arm, his grip surprisingly strong considering his condition. With a great deal of effort he began to roll over onto his back; Isaac quickly moved to help him, and soon they were looking at each other face-to-face. There was clear surprise on the man's face as he looked around.

"A forest? Where's… the city?"

"There's not a city for miles. And there's no one else here but me. Whoever they are, you don't have to worry about these Yggdrasil people; they aren't here."

The man sighed. "Well… that's nice to know." His breathing started to pick up and his eyes started to flutter; Isaac feared his death was coming, but the man's eyes locked onto his face. "Keep the belt safe," he rasped. "Use it if you have to. Just… keep this world… safe…"

Finally the man's eyes began to close as his wounds caught up with him. "Please," he whispered. He took one last breath and went still.

"I'm so sorry," Isaac whispered. He lowered his head and offered up a prayer to Naga; a prayer asking for the man to have a peaceful respite in the afterlife. He had no idea who the man was or what he may have done, but it was a small and simple courtesy. He felt a few tears starting to well up in his eyes and brought his forearm to wipe them away.

Too late did he realize the man's hand had left a bloody print on his arm and it smeared across Isaac's face. He retched as he felt the warm liquid clinging to his face. Isaac was no stranger to blood – he hunted for food and had discovered animal corpses in various states of decay throughout his time in the forest – but this was another human's, not an animal's.

He swallowed the rising bile in his throat and used the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face, then sat there. He had no idea what to do at this point. He should bury the corpse, but where? Did the man have family? Friends? A wife and children? Where was he even from? Who were these Yggdrasil men that were after him? Why did he think he was in a city? What was so important about that case that he wanted to make sure he had it before he died?

Well. That was one thing that could be answered.

The case was still on the ground but now had a red smear across its shiny metal surface. Aside from an emblem of a tree emblazoned on it with the word Yggdrasil written beneath it, it was entirely unremarkable aside from the material it was made of.

What held Isaac's attention were the objects lying next to the case. There were a few pieces of paper that were scattered about that he started with. They were covered in strange writing and had strange diagrams on them; nothing that Isaac could make any sense of, so he stacked them together and put them back into the case.

The next object he picked up was even more confusing to Isaac. It looked like the sort of padlock that one would use to lock their door but there was no keyhole to be seen. There was a button on the side that he supposed might unlock it, but having that would make it useless as a measure of security, as anyone would be able to unlock it. Seeing the front of it, he decided that it must have been some sort of decoration. It depicted a purple fruit – a plum, if he was not wrong – and had black writing on it: L.S.-31.

Had this man really lost his life over a novelty? Or maybe this lock had more significance that belied its appearance.

But there was still one more thing that he had to examine, and this was the oddest of all. At first glance it reminded him of a plaque that someone may hang on their wall, but the large yellow knife that hung off the left side of the object made him reconsider that idea. It was black and made of metal, with some bits of silver here-and-there. In the center of the object was an eight-sided indentation and the left side was completely featureless.

He turned it over in his hands, trying to discern whatever purpose such an oddity could have, when the man's words came back to him. "This is a belt?" he wondered aloud. He searched for the strap it would connect to but found nothing. "How am I supposed to use this when I can't even wear it? It's just a belt, isn't it?"

He shook his head in frustration and put everything back into the case before shoving it off to the side. He would figure out what to do with it later. For now he turned his attention to the body that was lying in front of him and sighed. "I suppose I should bury you now. I had to run to Southtown soon anyway; I'll get a priest from the local chapel to give you proper funeral rites, and maybe see if we can't find your family." He paused as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know who you were or why you were in my garden or what happened to you. All I know is that I'm sorry this happened to you, and that… that I couldn't do anything to help you." He paused. "Gods I'm terrible at this mourning business. I never know what to say, and now I'm just babbling. I just… I'm so frustrated and upset and sad about what's happened, and so confused about why it may have happened. I never know how to feel in these situations.

"And I don't know if or even how I can honor your last wish, but…" Isaac stopped and put a hand against his temple. "Gods, I have no idea what I'm even saying at this point. I'm just… I'm just going to bury you and figure the rest of this out as I go. That's really all I can promise." As he stood to go and grab a shovel, Isaac quietly added, "I wonder if I have any hard ale somewhere. I may need it after all of this."

It would be twilight by the time Isaac managed to bury the man and construct a small grave marker. The rest of his day was spent inside of his home, trying to make some sense of what had happened and what role that man expected him to play. He thought about it well into the night, until sleep finally claimed him by the fireplace.

* * *

 **This is an idea that I've had for some time now, since around the time that _Kamen Rider Gaim_ came to an end. I'm not sure how well this story will be received, mainly because of one of its main premises: even though the Rider in this story is  based** **off of the Riders from _Gaim_ , he is not any of the existing Riders from _Kamen Rider Gaim._ I'll also warn that this story will dip into AU territory for both _Gaim_ and _Awakening._ I'm following the Sailor Earth and For Want of a Nail tropes here and I have no idea how well that will be received, but why not try to make something interesting? So hopefully this prologue will serve to entertain, as will the rest of this story.  
**


	2. Chapter 1

Flashes of crimson lightning cast eerie shadows against the walls of the ruined hallway. The chittering and screeching calls of the insectoid monsters that filled the once grand hall were matched only by the booming peals of thunder that shook the very foundation of the castle. The floor was cracked and torn up by large roots and vines, from which odd plants and fruits hung; through one window, the twisting trunk of some strange tree emerged out into the open air. The air was thick with a swirling mist that seemed to flow across every surface as though it had a life of its own.

In the midst of it all, a lone figure walked down the decrepit hall, his presence ignored by the insectoid creatures surrounding him. Only once did one pass before him, and it quickly fell to the ground to escape his oncoming presence. The figure's body was covered by a thick brown cloak and his face obscured by a low-hanging cowl. Long, thick braids of golden hair spilled form his hood, as did the braided ends of his beard.

As he came to the end of the hall, to where a pair of mighty doors once stood but now lay to the side as yet more reminders of the castle's former splendor, he paused. Memories, fond and terrible, rushed to the forefront of his mind as he looked beyond the threshold into the remnants of the throne room, and he felt warm tears spring to his eyes as they always did whenever he started to reminisce on what had been.

Stepping into the throne room itself brought upon an entirely different atmosphere than the hall. Gone were the roots and the vines bearing flowers and fruits; gone was the warm mist, now replaced by a chill could make even the dead shiver. There were no signs of the beasts that now roamed the castle, and the entirety of the world, within the throne room, for all knew the consequence of breaching this place, his last sanctuary.

Tiredness plagued every step he took as he made his way up to where the throne had once sat; behind it, the wall had fallen away and now revealed the red sky and swirling clouds of dust that scoured the land. He made his way to the very end of the room and stood atop that precipice, looking over the land he had once called home. Once it had been a vibrant and beautiful land; now it was just another ugly reminder of a dead world.

Slowly he turned his back on the dead landscape. Looking around the throne room only brought about fresh tears as his eyes saw the stone slabs that had been stabbed into the ground, on each of them a name. Some had weapons of all types stood next to them, while others had small trinkets. As he continued to stare at the graveyard that his hands had built, he spoke.

"This world was crafted by the folly of those who sought power without the knowledge to use it. In this and other worlds, there are things that mere mortals were never meant to obtain: objects that could remake entire continents and weapons that would make even gods quiver in fear should their creations lay hands on them. Do you see the destruction that the desire for such an object has caused for this world? The damage that such weapons have caused? The ruination that has fallen across everything and has made this land bare?

"Isaac! Do you wish to protect this world? Or shall you let it crumble into ruin?"

* * *

Isaac fell to the floor with a crash, smashing his head against the bare floor of his cabin. Not that he registered any pain; his heart was racing too fast and his adrenaline was higher than it had been in as long as he could remember, all thanks to that dream. Rolling over onto his back, he let out a shuddering breath as he tried to keep the room from spinning. Or just get his heart to a point where it did not feel as though it would burst from his chest.

A memory kicked in and he started searching the floor nearby him, until finally his fingers touched the cool metal of the cup of ale he had poured himself before bed. Grabbing it and pressing it to his lips, he felt relieved when a bit of the remaining liquid flowed into his mouth. It was strong and the burn of the alcohol was strong as it went down his throat. He downed all that was in the cup and held onto that warmth, focused on it, tried to use it to calm himself, and soon he found himself kneeling by his bedside, panting softly and sweating profusely.

"That was the worst nightmare yet," he muttered into his hands. "Gods, I just wish they'd all stop!"

He still felt tired and drained from the day prior, from all the work he had put into maintaining his home, and he would have loved to just get back into his bed and close his eyes for a few more hours; the moon was still in the sky, though it was lowering towards the horizon. But he knew that if he fell asleep, the dreams would return.

They had begun six months ago, just a scant two weeks after he had buried that man who had died in his garden. As far as nightmares went, they had started tamely enough – just memories twisted into bloody and nightmarish visions. Deaths of people he knew or had known, reliving moments from his youth that had terrified him, moments of terror where his phobias came to life: they were all nightmares that anyone would have had and ignored.

And then two months had passed, and they started to get worse. Sometimes they would start calmly enough, with him walking through the woods he called home, when suddenly he would find himself in the middle of a strange and unfamiliar forest that was filled with fantastic and strange plants. But there would never be an animal in sight, until some kind of monster would burst from the trees and rush him – and the dream would end there.

Other times, he would see a battle unfolding, with people on both sides dying horrifically. And though he could never make out their faces, every time they died he would feel a surge of sorrow and guilt, like he should have done something to stop it.

But this time, the dream had been different. If that even had been a dream – that figure had directly addressed him, had it not?

"'Protect the world?' That's exactly what he said, but… How am I supposed to do something like that?" he wondered aloud. Then he sighed in frustration. What was he doing, trying to figure out what sort of meaning that a dream held? Maybe it was just the stress from the other nightmares coming to a head, or something that made him remember what the dying man had said to him.

Whatever it was, he needed to try and put it past him. He would need sleep for what he had to do today: a trip into Southtown that would let him sale a bit of produce and grab a few odds and ends that he needed. The trip there and back would likely take him most of the day, and the roads could be dangerous at times; he could ill-afford to be tired.

 _Still_ , he thought as he picked up the empty cup, _maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another drink to calm my nerves before bed._

* * *

He had been careful to not rouse his lord and lady, slowly putting his armor on so that it would not make a noise and carefully making his way out of their campsite. But it was just as he was about to be off that Frederick heard the familiar voice of his charge. "Going out on a patrol?" Chrom had asked.

"Forgive me for not telling you, milord, but you and lady Lissa were sleeping so soundly. I thought you two may need all the rest that you could get," Frederick had replied. "Besides, I was feeling a bit restless and thought I could put that time to good use."

Chrom nodded. "Just stay safe out there. We're not far from home, and I'd like for all of us to return to Ylisstol in one piece. And if you run into anything dangerous, anything that you can't handle, Frederick – come back immediately and let us know. Those rumors about unbeatable warriors have me worried."

Frederick smiled at the mention of the townsfolk gossip they had heard in the last village they passed through. Apparently it had recently been visited by a powerful warrior who could summon unbreakable armor and a mighty weapon out of thin air. He placed no stock in it, but if it worried the prince, it was enough for him to be concerned. "I shall take utmost care with anything I may encounter; if I must, I shall retreat, gather you and Lissa, and together we shall make our escape."

That exchange had been almost half an hour ago, and Frederick was starting to wonder if he would have a chance to make it back to the campsite. A sudden freak storm had blown in while Frederick had been checking the perimeter, hiding the moon behind dark clouds and sending torrents of rain pouring from the sky. Yet the weather was hardly the most pressing issue he was currently facing. That spot was taken by the assailant who was now trying to take his head.

Disengaging his opponent for the moment, Frederick winced as he sucked in a breath and felt his ruined breastplate dig into his ribs; the sharpness of the pain made him worry about the possibility of a damaged rib or two. He shuddered to think what his foe's club would have done to his bones had he not been wearing his armor; as it was, his platemail had crumpled like wet paper with just a few blows from that weapon. And despite how sparingly he used it, the dastard's sickle was just as dangerous, as the blood pouring from his forearm and right hip could prove – it had went straight through his armor and flesh, without pause!

The armored figure laughed as he leapt back into the darkness, the cover of the night and the driving sheets of rain pouring from the heavens making him practically disappear. It was his years of experience as a knight of Ylisse that let him tell where his foe was likely moving, and even then only just. He had his spear ready to strike the moment the opportunity presented itself.

 _There, from behind!_

Leaping out of the shadows like a fiend from a nightmare, the armored warrior flew through the air towards – no, _over_ Frederick's head. Turning about as fast as he could on the muddied ground, Frederick was able to deflect the clubbing blow aimed for his head with the haft of his spear. Frederick saw that his foe was already swinging the sickle towards his exposed ribs, he turned his body and slammed the butt of his spear into his opponent's helmet. The blow seemed to stun the armored assailant, enough that the sickle's arc went wide, and Frederick quickly pulled away before thrusting forward with his weapon, hoping to end this battle quickly.

But even though he struck the man's stomach, where there seemed to be no armor, his spear would not pierce. Still the force of the blow made the man wheel back, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. "Shit!" the man swore, not in anger but in excitement, and it was to Frederick's dread when the man started to breathlessly chuckle. "Damn! For a local-yokel like yourself, you got some moves. Not many of you folks can actually put the hurt on me when I got this armor on."

Ignoring the man's odd way of speaking and his accent, Frederick drew back and started to weigh his options. He had not quite struck with his full strength, but even that blow would have killed most other men. Already his armor was making it harder and harder for him to keep his footing as the ground kept getting muddier as more rain fell. He was not sure how dire the wounds he suffered were, but he could feel the pain they caused whenever he moved to block and parry attacks.

His foe however seemed to have almost no issue with the rain and the terrain, if the way he had been quickly maneuvering around Frederick the entire fight was any indicator. Whatever damage that had been dealt seemed easily dismissed due to that armor he wore. The man may have also been holding back, if the ease with which Frederick had blocked the swing of his club was any indication.

It took him less than seven seconds, the same amount of time it took the man to speak, for Frederick to realize that he was fighting a losing battle. It may be a matter of minutes or seconds, but either way he would not likely be coming out of this fight alive.

 _Damn! And Chrom and Lissa have no way to know this man is here!_

If only he had been more careful when patrolling the area surrounding their campsite, but this man had seemingly materialized with the rain. Even so, even if it cost him his life, he would protect his lord and lady to his last breath.

"So come on, knighty-knight!" the armored man taunted, waving his club tauntingly. "I wanna see just how far you can go 'fore I leave you broken and go after your royal pains! Maybe that little prince you're protecting will put up a better fight."

The man charged Frederick, who readied himself to block. But the man did not use his weapons; instead he dropped to the ground and slid past Frederick, then twisted around and hooked his leg around the knight's. Frederick slammed the butt of his spear into the ground just as the man twisted around and attempted to pull Frederick to the ground. He held fast until the man pulled back on his leg. With the back of his knee still wrapped around Frederick's shin, the larger man lost his balance on the muddy ground and hit the ground.

Springing to his feet, the man leapt up and tried to stomp in Frederick's head, but the knight had the wherewithal to roll away. As the man's foot landed, Frederick pooled as much strength as he had and kicked at the man's leg. The man's foot slid from beneath him and he yelped as he fell to the ground himself. Taking this brief reprieve, Frederick reached for his fallen spear and rose to his feet. As his foe started to get up, the knight took the haft of the spear and brutally slammed it down onto the back of the man's head, putting all of the force he could muster behind it.

Part of Frederick was unsurprised to see the end of his spear snap off from the blow; even if it was made of silvered metal, it could only take so much wear. More importantly, the armored man cried out in pain before falling back to the ground. The string of words he was saying – curses, Frederick supposed, even if he did not recognize the language – meant that he was far from unconscious, but the blow seemed to stun him.

Seeing that this was the best chance he was likely to get, Frederick dropped what was left of his weapon and ran as fast as he could across the muddy ground. He had to reach the royal siblings and warn them; even if the man followed him, he could hold him at bay while the two of them escaped.

"Damned piece-of-shit yokel! I'll take that spear and shove it straight up your ass!" the armored man growled as he rose. His weapons lay forgotten on the ground nearby and as he started to walk in the direction Frederick fled he punched his fists together. "To Hell with finesse and all that other garbage that Korean bitch keeps spouting – I'll wring your damned neck!" He was done with the stealth business that he was supposed to do; anger forced rational thought out of the way and was sending him down the warpath.

When his weapons suddenly flew by his head and the sickle's blade buried itself into a tree, the man's anger ceased, and the feeling of three sharp somethings poking into his back filled his veins with ice. "…Shit!"

He spun around just as his own assailant swung the trident in his hands, its curving tines smashing into the side of his helmet. He reeled backwards, completely exposed as the polearm was thrust into his stomach – once, twice, and the third time launched him into the air. With each strike, sparks flew from his armor and he was left a groaning mess as he scrambled to his feet.

Standing before him was another armored man, the night obscuring all of his features except for his general shape – which made it all too easy to spot the curving horns that rose from the sides of his head, the cape that was dangling from his shoulders, and the trident that he held in one hand. And even in the darkness, the subtle red glow from the man's curving visor was able to send a chilling spike of fear into anyone's heart.

"I-Inferno…" the man gasped. He backed away as fast as he could until his foot caught on something and he fell again. "L-look, I can explain-"

"You were warned, Kagemusha."

The first armored man, the one called Kagemusha, rolled out of the way as Inferno lunged. With disturbing ease, the trident speared straight into the ground, burying itself to the shaft. "I told you what would happen if I found you were abusing your Sengoku Driver's power." With an effortless tug, Inferno tore the weapon free and twirled it about to point at Kagemusha. "Or do you need to be reminded of what happened to Ritter?"

Kagemusha flinched at the mention of the name, but managed to recover after a moment. "…I don't even get what the hell your problem is. So what if I'm trying to make a profit with this thing? I bought the damn thing before I got dragged into this backwards-ass world!" Pulling a pair of objects from his waist, he pressed buttons on both and threw them at Inferno. "Bought these too, but you can have them now. You three have fun, I'm going to run."

Inferno made no attempt to catch up to the fleeing Kagemusha, but instead stared up at the glowing tears in reality that had opened up above him. A pair of creatures fell out of them and roared before rushing him. He sidestepped the first and smashed the butt of his trident into the second's sternum. As the two of them started to circle him, he grunted. "This isn't over, Kagemusha! You keep abusing your power like that, and it won't be just you that your sins drag into the inferno!" he called out. Then he turned around and attacked, piercing the stomach of one of the creatures. "But for now, I have to deal with you two."

* * *

The strong sunlight may have been making his slight hangover worse, but Isaac was grateful nonetheless that the skies had cleared up sometime early in the morning. It took him about an hour to gather everything that he planned on trading with or selling at Southtown – mostly a few extra vegetables that he grew in his garden and a few jars of wild honey, among other things. He also had his woodcutting axe along with him, held in place by a leather strap on his belt. The road to Southtown was not particularly dangerous, but one could never be too careful, especially with how close the Plegian border was.

It hardly seemed as though he were the only one going to Southtown today for some trading; five or so small wagons had already passed him by, all coming from the small outlying villages that dotted the Ylissean countryside. A few of them had even offered him a ride into Southtown, but he had politely declined each time. It was a good day for a walk, he had said to each.

 _Well it is a nice day. So I guess it's not a_ _ **total**_ _lie._ He sighed as he continued the trudge towards Southtown. _Truth be told, I would have loved to be able to just ride into town and not have to take so long to get there. Just… Not with any of them._ Isaac shook his head, both to shoo off a fly that was buzzing around it and to try dislodging his current train of thought.

It was to no avail on both fronts.

 _I don't hate being around other people- well, that's a lie, actually, I do. Or just people I don't know, so essentially all of the world._

 _Wonderful._

At least his journey would soon be coming to an end: up ahead was a lone tree that he used as a landmark. That alone signified that he had maybe thirty more minutes left in his trip, and the stacks of smoke he saw rising from the town only reaffirmed that idea. He gave a look up to the sky to check where the sun was and saw that it was still a ways off from noon, meaning he had made good time.

But as he got closer to that familiar sight, he noticed that something was wrong with the tree. Namely that it was dead. Its branches which once held vibrant green leaves were now blackened, skeletal arms. The trunk was split down the center, and as he got closer he saw how clean a split it was. He could also smell the scent of smoke, still fresh in the air.

 _Must have been lightning from the storm last night,_ he rationalized as he walked around the tree. Coming up behind the tree's remains, he stopped and stared at something that was visible even on the blackened bark. Four deep gouges marred the tree's surface, all perfectly aligned with each other. It did not take Isaac long to realize what they were – claw marks – but the sight of them made him wonder: what sort of creature would have made them? The forest was miles away, but while a bear was unlikely it was hardly impossible.

 _Maybe I should warn the town guard that there's a wild animal roaming around so close to town._

Isaac was about to shrug the entire ordeal off when his eyes caught onto one last thing that gave him pause. Lying hidden in the tall grass was a tome, and upon picking it up and giving it a quick examination he determined it was a tome of lightning magic. Curiosity got the best of him and he cracked it open, hoping to see if whatever mage lost it had left their name inside. Instead he was surprised when a small sheaf of papers spilled out and hit the ground.

As he started to gather them together, Isaac froze when he saw what was drawn on one of the papers, and his mind was drawn to the silver case that was resting at the bottom of his rucksack. "A Lockseed?" he muttered as he examined the notes that he was holding.

He was about to start looking through the notes further when he finally heard the moan. It was soft and were it not for how strangely quiet everything seemed to be – something that, upon realization, sent unease into the pit of his stomach – he would never have heard it. It seemed to be coming from further into the grassy field that lay off the path.

Isaac stood there a second, feeling torn. On the one hand, was it likely that there was someone in need of aid laying out there? Certainly; but it was just as likely a trap of some kind, laid by bandits who would be upon him within seconds after he investigated. Yet Isaac's mind was made up when he heard the moan sound again, this time followed by a quiet whimper of pain.

Drawing his axe from its place on his belt, the young man dropped everything else he was carrying and started to slowly walk out into the tall grass. _Please, Naga, let nothing jump me. I'm just trying to do a good deed,_ he prayed. It was nigh impossible to tell exactly where the source of the noise was coming from, but the further in he wandered, the louder and more distinct they became.

Then, with one careless step and a sudden trip, he was literally right on top of the source.

His head smacked against the ground hard enough for spots to appear in his vision. In his dazed state he barely noticed that he was not lying on hard ground; rather, there was something soft but firm underneath him. His brain caught up with the rest of his senses just as the woman he had fallen on spoke up.

"Would you mind getting off of me? My head's hurting enough as is; I don't need you adding to the pain."

Isaac was a blur of motion as he leapt up and away from the woman, but almost just as quickly he was back at her side. "Oh gods, your head! There's blood everywhere!" he cried. Panic was starting to well up in him; flashbacks of the man in his garden- of a hall filled with screaming people- of red slowly staining pure white-

"-head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but it's really just a bad scratch. There's no need to worry- hey, are you alright?" The woman wiped a few blood-stained strands of blonde hair out of her face and stared at the young man in front of her. His breathing was short and quick, his eyes were unfocused, and he was starting to shake. Even with how much her head hurt, she could tell the man was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. She felt like she knew how to properly treat victims of those, but for the life of her should could not recall anything. So she did the best thing she could think of.

"Snap out of it!"

The slap was hard and quick, and seemed to do the job, as Isaac went from panicking to clutching his stinging cheek almost instantly. "Ah! …Thanks for that, but still that really stings!"

"Well it was either that or let you panic, and I doubt you would have wanted that to happen. Oh, and you're welcome."

"Still, that blood worries me," Isaac said as he motioned to her face. Most of the right-side of her face was caked with dried blood. Some of it had also dripped down onto the heavy purple coat that she wore, but the dark color of the fabric made it hard to see. The woman simply waved off his concern.

"Like I said, head and facial wounds tend to bleed a lot but usually aren't that serious. I doubt it's anything more than a really bad scratch, and with how lucid I'm being right now I likely don't even have a concussion." She paused and tentatively touched at her head. "Ugh, but I have the worst headache imaginable."

"Well that's good. Not the headache, I mean, but everything else. About how the blood's not that big of an issue, and that you don't think that the fact you look terrible isn't that serious. That is, terrible in the sense that your face is coated in blood, not…" Isaac trailed off and looked away, cursing himself as he felt the girl's yellow eyes staring at him. "Um… Sorry, I… Ugh."

"You wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?" The woman thankfully ignored his sudden nervousness and instead started focusing on her own issues. "Because I can't really recall anything about where I am, or what I was doing here…" She trailed off as she realized one other vital piece of information that she was forgetting. "Who am I?"

"You don't… Your memory's gone?" When the girl just quietly nodded, Isaac frowned. _Well I have no idea what to do about that. Oh!_ "Wait a second! I found some papers and a tome at that tree over there. Maybe they belong to you?"

"Papers and a tome… Was it a tome of Thunder magic, by any chance? And were the papers covered in notes?"

"Uh-huh!" This was good start, Isaac was sure of it. "If they're yours, maybe you wrote your name in there somewhere, and if that doesn't work there's a town nearby. Maybe the doctor there could treat you for your memory loss." He honestly had no idea if a doctor _could_ do anything like that but that was no reason to lose hope.

The woman started to get to her feet but a wave of dizziness dropped her again. Sighing tiredly, she held out her right hand. "I hate to ask, but would you mind helping me up?"

"No trouble at all," Isaac replied as he walked over and took her hand. Idly, he noted that there was some sort of black marking on the back of her hand, but he dismissed it as he helped her stand. "Come on, it's just over this way." He started to slowly lead her back towards the tree and his own belongings, when he realized something important.

"Um… Before we go over there, would you mind waiting momentarily? I dropped my axe somewhere around here."


	3. Chapter 2

Waiting was always the hardest part for Garrick. Ever since he had been a young lad running through the streets of his home village, patience had been one of those virtues that never stuck with him. When he wanted something, he _really_ wanted it then and there; his entire body would start to ache over it the longer he had to wait. That was why he loved his job so much; banditry meant he hardly ever had to wait. He was a man of action, always ready to move on to the next big score.

But this was not just another big score or anything close to that. A mission from the Plegian King himself: to raise havoc around the border between Ylisse and Plegia, and get those cowardly Ylissean dogs riled up enough to start up the war again. Not that Garrick ever thought the Ylisseans ever would go to war, not with such a soft leader as their Exalt, but a job from King Gangrel himself would mean big things for him.

He and his band had been preparing for this day for weeks now, scoping out the best targets to hit. Already they had ravaged three small villages, and now it was time to step things up. Southtown, that stupidly-named trade hub that lay so dangerously close to the border, was just the perfect place to start escalating things. The only problem was that hitting a larger town such as this meant having to prepare more. Even if there was not much of a town guard, if the townsfolk got a big enough militia together they could push Garrick and his boys right out of town and into the ground. For a while it seemed like foolishness to even consider attacking the town.

Then he had seen those wagons rolling in. Now, Garrick had never had a keen mind for strategy or planning, but he could smell an opportunity when it arose. Wagons loaded down with goods meant people would be flooding the marketplace. Enough that a few rough-looking men could squeeze in without much scrutiny – as far as anyone knew, they were just bodyguards hired to protect a merchant – and as much as he hated having to share so much space with these Ylissean dogs, it did Garrick a world of comfort to know that soon they would all be begging him for mercy.

The palace where they would attack had already been scoped out. The marketplace was a pretty big plaza, bordered to the north and east by a river that ran through the town. There was a bridge at the northern end that led to the town hall and a bridge east that led elsewhere into the town. His men already knew what the plan was: get a few of them to each major escape route except the bridge leading to town hall. Once everything started and they realized they were blocked in everywhere but a few places, and with Garrick's men herding as many of them as they could in one direction, the Ylissean scum would run straight for the only place they could go, the town hall. And once they packed themselves in there up to the rafters and barred the doors, thinking they would be safe and sound, Garrick's men would be ready with the torches.

They would not even need those weird little trinkets that woman had given them. She had been so damned adamant about them using them, but what did she know? She shows up six months ago and thinks she can start taking charge?

 _Well,_ Garrick thought, _shows what she knows. Once we get back to Plegia, I'll tell Gangrel that we didn't even need her little trinkets. That'll be mud on her face!_

He passed by another stall, heading for the center of the market. Once he got there, he would set a fire that would tell the rest of his boys that it was time, and the attack would be on. But it was as he was passing by the stall that he overheard a piece of news that made him stop in his tracks.

"So have you heard? Apparently Prince Chrom and Princess Lissa arrived in town early this morning with one of their knights in tow. They looked pretty haggard, like they hadn't got much sleep, and that knight was said to be in pretty bad shape!"

"Really? I wonder what could've caused something like that. You think it could've been one of those magical warriors people have been talking about, the ones who can summon their armor and weapons from the air itself?"

So the boy-prince of the Halidom was in town? That could mean his Shepherds were close behind, and that would spell more trouble than Garrick thought he and his men could handle. His mind and hand wandered back to the trinket the woman gave him, and though it put a bitter feeling in his stomach to even touch the thing, he realized he may have more need of it than he thought.

Ah well. He could mull over such things later. For the moment, it was time to get things started.

* * *

Seated beneath the dead tree, Isaac watched the mysterious girl's face as she studied the papers in her hands. For the most part her expression was blank, though occasionally she would furrow her brow or bite her lip, like she was on the verge of recalling something. Occasionally she would stop to take a bite out of one of the biscuits Isaac had offered her but her main focus was on finding any clue to her past in those notes.

For his part, Isaac tried to keep quiet and keep from distracting her, and he had his own thoughts to keep him busy. Mostly they were just questions, but there was one in particular that kept dancing around his skull, pestering him for an answer: did she know what the contents of that case actually were? That glimpse of her notes he had seen, about something called a Lockseed – there had been an illustration of something that looked exactly like the lock inside of the case. This could easily be his chance to finally find out what they were, and why that man died because of them.

But he knew now was not the time to ask her about that, not after she lowered the papers with that defeated look on her face. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing. You'd think that if I wrote these papers, I would've left my name on them somewhere, but I guess I was just too _stupid_ to do that!" She groaned in frustration and fell back onto the grass.

"But you did at least write those papers, right?"

She seemed to think about that before sighing. "I'm honestly not sure at this point. Part of me wants to say I did, but how can I be sure if I can't even remember who I am? They look familiar and I feel like they're important to me, but I'm not sure why or how." She reached up to her forehead, the wound covered by a strip of fabric Isaac had in his bag. It was something he had insisted on them doing, even if she was sure the wound was harmless. He had also been doggedly insistent that they clean the blood off of her face and had managed that with a bit of water from his own supplies. "If I ever meet who or whatever did this to me, they're going to pay," she muttered as she rubbed her injury.

Isaac decided to let her have a moment to herself, and instead found his attention drawn to the notes she had just dropped. He chewed on his lip as his thoughts kept returning to that silver case that he had in his sack. There had to be some kind of answers to what was so important about those two objects. "If it's alright with you, could I take a look at some of those notes?" he asked. Her grunt and the wave of her hand seemed close enough to an 'okay,' so he reached out and grabbed the nearest piece of paper.

The first thing he noticed was that the paper was almost entirely taken up by a sketch of some kind of creature. It stood on two legs and had two arms, but looked much more like an insect than any sort of man or animal. It had a bulbous body with its face emerging from a spot just above its chest. Written above it in a neat script was a single word: Inves. There were a few notes scattered around the sketch, mainly detailing its biology, and unfortunately Isaac could understand very little of what those notes meant.

 _Still, what does this thing have to do with the Lockseeds?_ he wondered. Flipping the paper over, he began to read quietly.

" _The Inves are, from my observations of the few specimens I have found, are an incredibly dangerous species if not properly controlled. So long as someone is holding the Lockseed that summoned the Inves from the Forest, the creature will follow all commands given to it; however, the moment the Lockseed is damaged or set down, the Inves will rampage, destroying everything it sees, seemingly in search of something. They also seem to be naturally drawn to other Lockseeds, as one specimen, while not under my control, immediately tried to grab one of the other Lockseeds that I had forgotten to pick up. As curious as I am about these creatures, I don't think I want one of them to get its claws on one of these Lockseeds."_

"'The Lockseed that _summoned_ the Inves,'" Isaac repeated, feeling a bit unnerved by that bit of information. Was that what the Lockseeds were for, summoning some sort of monster? If that was the case, then he could partly understand why that man had been killed. He shuddered to think what would happen if someone were to use multiple Lockseeds at once and had the Inves that came from them rampage.

Yet that man had said that what was in the case could keep the world safe. Or at least, he had pleaded with Isaac to do so; maybe keeping the world safe meant disposing of the Lockseed? Though that did not explain the 'belt' that was also in there.

The thought of the 'belt' made Isaac look up from the notes. "Is there any mention of a belt in any of your notes?" he asked.

The blonde woman tilted her head up and raised an eyebrow. "Belt? No, I didn't see anything in those notes concerning a belt. Why do you ask?"

Isaac responded by grabbing his rucksack and rifling through the contents until his fingers touched the cool metal of the briefcase. He took it out and undid the clasps, talking as he did. "A few months ago, a man just… appeared in my garden, covered in blood and on the verge of death. At first I thought he may have stumbled in, but I couldn't find any sign of where he'd come from – though that's not really important. What is important is this," he said as he opened the case and showed the girl its contents. "I'm not sure what he was talking about, but he said that I could use the belt in here."

She said nothing as she reached forward and pulled the supposed belt from the case's foamy grip. The woman turned it around in her hands, examining every inch of it, and even jostled the knife that was hanging off the front. "I… Alright, even if I did have my memories, I'm pretty certain I still wouldn't have any idea what this thing might be," she admitted after she gave him back the 'belt'. "It's a strange little trinket, but I don't see how it's a belt; I can't find the straps anywhere. Why were you even carrying this around?"

Isaac frowned as he put the case on the ground, feeling a bit hesitant about how to answer that question. "Well… It's hard to explain, but ever since I got this thing – since that man died – I've just felt like this thing is really, _really_ important. He died because someone else wanted it, so it has to do something. I just wish I knew what."

The woman kept studying the objects in the case before suddenly asking, "Have you ever tried putting the Lockseed in the belt?"

"Huh? How would I do that?"

She showed him by taking both objects out of the case again. Flipping the Lockseed around, she showed him the large black peg on the back of it, then pointed to the hole in the middle of the 'belt,' which looked like it could fit the peg perfectly. "Like that. You'd have to unlock the Lockseed first though. Just press that button on the side," she explained as she handed the two objects back to him.

He took them back gingerly, like they might burn him if he was careless. Could it really be so simple? Was that really the trick to figuring out what this thing was? "You never thought to try that yourself?" the woman asked.

"No, never. I never really took the time to examine them much." To be entirely honest, he really just did not like to touch them. Every time he did it brought back memories of how someone died because of them, and he would always start to wonder if there was now a target on his back for having these objects. More than once he had considered leaving them in the forest and forgetting about them, but that feeling of how important these objects were always made hesitate enough that he would wind up keeping them. "Do you think I should try? Using this, I mean?"

The woman herself seemed a bit hesitant. Just when she was about to speak, a quick glance at the sky made her breath catch. "Is that smoke?" she asked. Isaac turned around, then jumped to his feet when he saw the steadily-growing, black plume of smoke that was rising into the sky. That he knew what lay in that direction only made him even more worried.

"That's coming from Southtown! I think it's under attack!"

"What should we do?" the woman asked from behind him, and for the life of him Isaac wanted to tell her that they should just stay right where they were and get ready to run if necessary. If Southtown really was under attack by bandits – no doubt Plegians considering how close they were to the border – then what was he supposed to do? He had an axe, but that was more for intimidation than anything else: it was for cutting wood, not other people. He so badly wanted to stay right there and pray that nothing bad came for them.

Yet the weight of the Lockseed and belt made him pause. What if he could do something with them? What if they would let him help the people in Southtown? Even if the belt itself did nothing, the Lockseed could at least summon one of those Inves creatures, and that alone would probably be enough to keep any bandits busy for a few moments.

And what if he did not help when he could have? Anyone who died there – it would be because of him, because of his inaction.

 _My own inaction…_

Nausea started to bubble up in his stomach as unwanted memories started to flow into his mind-

 _-a pure white dress-_

 _-saw the life drain-_

 _-oh gods the blood-_

 _-please no-_

 _-protect this world-_

"What are you going to do, Isaac? Sit back and watch, like always?"

"No!"

The firmness of the tone of his own voice stunned him, as did how loudly he shouted. He looked down at the belt and Lockseed, then to his woodcutting axe, and finally to the woman, who seemed caught off-guard by his shout. "No," he repeated in a softer tone. "We have to go and help them. Even if it's just a fire that's out of control, they might need our help. And if it is bandits, then…" He trailed off, knowing that saying he could fight would be a lie. If he had to defend himself with an axe, he would probably be better off just using his fists. But if it came down to it, well… "Maybe we can at least draw some attention away from the townsfolk, long enough for them to get to safety. That is, if you want to come," he added upon realizing the woman may not be willing to fight if she had to.

That worry was put to rest when she drew a sword from beneath her cloak and held up her tome of magic. "I don't remember much of anything, not even who I am, but I know that I can't just let a bunch of innocent people get hurt. If you want to do this, then I'm ready," she declared as she sheathed her weapon and tucked her tome beneath her arm.

Isaac nodded in response, then set about gathering up his supplies, as some of them could be of use to anyone who was injured; he also made sure to grab the woman's notes, just in case they got out of this alive. Even if she could find nothing in them, maybe he could still find some sort of answers in them. Throwing the bag over his shoulder and picking up his axe, he and the woman started their march towards Southtown, silently hoping that things would not be as bad as they thought they might.

As they crested the hill and saw the town in full, however, they realized their fears may have been all too real. People were running out of the town as a fire blazed in the center – right in the marketplace, if Isaac was right. Seeing the state of panic the townsfolk were in, the two of them broke into a sprint to get there as quickly as possible. It did not take them long before they ran into one of the citizens, a man Isaac vaguely recognized as one of the men who ran a stall in the market. "What's going on here?" Isaac asked as they approached.

The man, startled by their sudden appearance, nearly ran off but stopped upon recognizing Isaac. He still looked plainly worried, the fear etched into his face. "Isaac? What are you doing around here – you need to run, now! Bandits are attacking the town, and they've got the marketplace and town hall surrounded. I don't even know where they came from. Everything was going fine, when all of a sudden people started screaming and I saw torches flying through the air. Whoever they are, they're smart; they blocked the streets off. I barely got out of there alive." His face fell and he put a hand to his eyes. "I already know a few didn't. Gods, why do things like this have to happen? Didn't we suffer enough under the last Exalt and his damned holy war?"

"Exalt? Holy war?" the woman wondered aloud, seemingly on accident as she quickly froze up when the man finally noticed her.

"Hey, who are you? Never seen you before – oh, but what's it matter? The two of you need to get going, now! You can probably find somewhere to hunker down at one of the nearby farms; that's where I'm headed."

So it was a bandit attack after all. A cold bubble of fear welled up inside of Isaac's stomach as he looked towards the town and saw more and more people escaping through its gates. He knew that there were many more still in the town, on account of today being part of one of Southtown's busiest trade seasons, which only made the idea that these were not just normal bandits but Plegian soldiers disguised as bandits seems all the more likely to him. That, in turn, only made him feel more unease; if these had been run-of-the-mill bandits, little more than thugs out for money, then maybe their fighting ability would be poor enough that the town guard could handle things. If these really were Plegian soldiers, however – well, that meant that what little guard Southtown had might be hard-pressed to fight back.

 _And if a group of trained guards can't fight these men off, what chance do we have?_ Isaac wondered, the cold bubble of fear growing in his stomach. For an instant he thought about the Lockseed and the Inves that it should summon: would that be enough to turn the tides? Or would it just make things worse?

The woman, however, folded her arms and looked to the town with a calculating look in her eye. She could feel something in her brain starting to come alive, a need for information about the lay of the land and the forces that were fighting. It was a strange comfort, being able to somehow come up with the beginnings of different battle plans. _This feels so natural to me. Was I a tactician?_ she thought briefly before pushing the thought aside. There were more important things to focus on. "Did you see how many bandits there were?" she asked, a familiar instinct telling her that this would be key information if and when they had to fight.

"Of course not! I was busy trying to escape!" the townsman snapped in response. "And if the two of you are even thinking of going in there to try and save the town, you may as well turn around. Let those bandits have the town, as far as I care; I just hope that those bandits go home after they're done in there."

"But isn't that your home? You can't honestly be thinking about abandoning it!" cried the woman, aghast at the idea of abandoning her home. Even if she could not remember where she lived or who she had been, listening to this man about how he was willing to throw what he had away was stunning for her to hear.

Before the man could say anything further, Isaac finally spoke up. "Get to the farm, and if there are any other townsfolk there, use what's in this bag. There's food, some water, and a few things you can use for simple first aid inside," he said as he thrust the sack into the man's arms. The briefcase was already in his hands; his mind was made up. If what was in there could help save someone's life, he would have to use it.

"Are you serious, Isaac? You're actually going to try and fight? Haven't you said that you hate violence," the man asked.

"I do, but… I'd hate myself even more if I sat back and didn't at least _try_ to help," he slowly admitted. "Besides, we're not going in there to fight the bandits. We're going to help get anyone trapped inside out."

"Well," the man said after a moment, "I still think you're both stupid for trying, but I'll pray to the gods for your safety." Carefully holding the bag in his arms, the man started running to the east, towards his supposed safe-haven.

The two watched him go for a moment before running straight into the besieged town, ready to fight if need-be.

* * *

He was tired, a little hungry, and his upper arm would need healing after he carelessly let a fire spell get past his guard, but as he stood in the plaza in front of the town hall, none of that mattered to Chrom. All that did matter were the corpses of the bandits at his feet and the surviving members circling around him. As one of them lunged at him with a sword, he parried with a well-practiced swing of his own sword; yet the enemy swordsman seemed to have some competence with the sword as well, as he quickly spun around, bringing his sword up to deflect Chrom's own killing blow before disengaging. Immediately Chrom turned around, raising Falchion just in time to prevent an axe from being lodged between his shoulders. The bandit was far from finished; his foot shot up and into Chrom's stomach, kicking him backwards and forcing the air from his body. Another savage swing of the axe would have taken off the prince's head if desperate instinct had not forced Chrom to block with his weapon. He attempted a kick of his own but his foot only met air, as the bandit leapt back and again began to circle him.

All around him he could hear the sounds of the town guard and what little militia Southtown had managed to muster up desperately trying to protect their homes. From what little glimpses of their fighting that he had managed to see, Chrom knew that, if they made it out of here, he would have to do two things upon returning to Ylisstol: demand an increase of well-trained guardsmen to help protect this town, then demand a commendation for every single man and woman who was helping fight today. Poorly trained as they may have been, the townsfolk were ferocious in the efforts to fight off the invaders, and any bandit who even tried to make a move towards the town hall was met with a ferocity born from desperation.

Yet he doubted whether it would be enough to actually survive this fight. Had Frederick not been injured in a fight last night, or had they not spent a good portion of that night fleeing from whoever had attacked him, things may have been easier. As things were, all they could do was fall back and protect as many people as they could, and he wondered how long they could continue to hold out like this. He had no idea how many of these bandits there were – or even if they were really bandits; while some fought with wild swings and rushed headlong into the fray, the way the men he now fought reminded him of how a trained soldier might act: surround an opponent, cut off any avenue of escape, and attack him from every angle to keep him on the defensive.

Plegian-trained troops? He had no time to consider the possibility, as the mage who was standing outside of his range finally finished with the spell he had been preparing. Runes of light flared around his body as he cast his hand out and let loose a ball of fire magic. He sidestepped to avoid it, exhaustion making him a tad too slow as the fireball ignited part of his cape. Before he could even try to unfasten the thing, two bandits rushed him. Both swordsmen, and both well-versed in the way of the sword, as the two came after him with a flurry of alternating stabs and swings. He was able to either block or parry the majority of them, yet as he kept on the defensive he could feel his reserves of energy falling faster and faster.

Finally he found an opening: one of the bandits, having overreached when he tried to cut at Chrom's neck, had thrown himself off-balance. Chrom and Falchion shot forward, blocking the other bandit's attempt to protect his comrade – an act that in itself gave Chrom an opening, as the man's guard was open. Two strokes across the chest felled that bandit, and with a quick turn and thrust of his blade into the other's stomach, both swordsmen fell to the ground, either already dead or close to it. The mage, seeing his two allies fall, panicked and his next fireball went wide, splashing harmlessly against the ground some feet away; the axe-wielder, meanwhile, bellowed in a rage and raced towards Chrom's unprotected backside. He was nearly upon the young prince when an iron-tipped lance pierced his side.

Chrom spun around upon hearing the bandit's corpse fall, a grim look settling on his face as he saw his protector slowly pulling the lance from the dead body. "Frederick! You were supposed to be inside, making sure no one got past our defense!" Seeing the sweat beading his mentor's face and brow, Chrom's expression softened. "Besides, I saw your wound: you're in no shape to be fighting right now."

"Forgive me, milord, and may this be the only time I ever have to do this, but I must respectfully decline your orders. I feel as though my abilities and skills would be better put to use out here than inside," Frederick replied. Reaching out to grab Chrom by the arm, he pulled the prince out of the path of another fireball. "In any case, it would seem my presence here is necessary. It wouldn't do to bring you back to your sister cooked like a well-done piece of meat. Speaking of which-" with a swift movement, the knight grabbed the part of Chrom's cape that had been burning and tore it off before throwing it aside. "-I'll have to mend that at some point, but for now, try not to get anything else burned."

Frederick released Chrom and the two of them faced down the mage, who upon realizing he was the only one of his group still standing, promptly fled for the safety of his distant friends. Chrom allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he wiped the sweat from his brow, but he was quickly on guard again when another small team of bandits came rushing out of an alleyway and spotted them. "With me, Frederick; don't let anyone get past us!"

* * *

"We have to get past them!" Isaac whispered in an urgent tone. He and the mysterious woman were ducked behind a house, watching as a group of bandits plundered houses across the road from them. From what they had seen, it was a group of three: two carrying axes, one carrying a bow. For the past few minutes the two of them had been looking around the corner to observe the actions of the group and to see if there was a way to sneak by.

No such luck. While one of the axe-wielding bandits would go into the house and start pillaging, the other two would remain outside, watching up-and-down the road for any sign of motion. The archer's bow was already half-pulled, and the corpse of a villager further down the road suggested his accuracy and skill with the weapon. Even if the axe-wielding bandits were clumsy oafs with their weapons, their size and strength would give them the advantage in a straight-up fight.

Unfortunately for the two of them, a retreat was going to be just as much of an issue. The side of the house they had ducked behind was connected to a small alley, with no opening at the other end. Not as though they had much time to check their hiding place before-hand; it was only quick action that kept them from being spotted by the enemy trio as they were emerging from another house, carrying a bag filled with ill-gotten loot.

"We don't have much time, either," the woman added after a few moments. "They're almost done with that side of the road. They probably haven't even checked in these – at least, I don't think I saw the door to this house smashed open. Once they come to check this house, we'll be found." She went quiet for a moment more, then spoke again. "We have to get them before they can get us."

They were words that Isaac had been dreading to here ever since they began their endeavor. As they scoured the various parts of Southtown, they had been fortunate enough to either avoid any of the roving groups of bandits or find the area mercifully devoid of them. The town was eerily silent and devoid of life, aside from the occasional shouts of the bandits. They had managed to find a few people still stuck in the town and showed them the safest routes they knew out of immediate danger. They went further and further into Southtown, towards the center, where many of the citizens they encountered had said was likely the most filled with people in trouble. That had become the destination for their mission, to see if there was anything they could do to either end the attack or help guide more people out of danger. Every corner they turned or every street they ran through had been another moment of heart-pounding anxiety as they waited for someone to spot them and attack. For Isaac, it was particularly agonizing, because he knew that the moment they were found, there would be only one course of action for them to take.

They would have to fight and, in all likelihood, kill whatever bandits came after them.

For the length of their mission he had been sending up fervent prayers to Naga, to any god who may be listening, that they could just find someone without being discovered. The idea of having to fight – and to kill! – another person made him sick to his stomach. He had been forced to defend himself from people before, but things had always been broken up before much blood had ever been shed.

But he had known it would come to this; that their luck would run out and they would have to either defend themselves or someone else. He gripped his axe tightly, until he could feel the flow of blood to his finger restrict and the wood of the axe handle was digging into the palms of his hands. "What's the plan?" he asked, voice tight with anticipation.

The woman held up her spellbook and said, "Literal shock-and-awe. We need to hit these guys fast, before they can react. Let's wait until they go on to the next house; if you can rush the archer and strike him down before he can fire, I can hit whichever of those axe men stays outside. Even if it doesn't kill him outright, he should be too stunned to react before you finish him off, leaving the one inside the house to deal with the both of us. Does that sound alright with you?"

There was a pause between them as Isaac tried to answer. Her way of speaking, how analytical and simple she made it sound, stunned him into silence, and Isaac briefly wondered who the more dangerous party was: the bandits or this woman. But then she turned to him, concern filling her eyes and her voice as she asked, "You've never killed before, have you?"

His silence was all the answer she needed. "…If it makes you feel any better, I can't remember if I have either. I'm not even sure how I was able to come up with a plan like that so quickly. But we have to do this, don't we? Protect ourselves or die?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. "Don't worry about it. If I have to, I can do the fighting for the both of us."

Isaac considered it, and how dearly he wished he could just say 'Yes, fight for me!' but he knew that she would have the odds against her. Even with her magic, and even if she was proficient with that sword, was there really any chance for her to defeat three men by herself? If only there were a way they could get out of this without fighting-

"The Lockseed!" he exclaimed, quickly covering his mouth afterwards and straining to hear if he had alerted anyone. Thankfully, none of them seemed to have noticed, and so he quietly went on. "I can summon the Inves and use it as a distraction. While they're busy with it, you and I can run past them!" Before the woman could protest or raise her own questions, he fished the Lockseed form his pocket and pressed the button on the side. The face of the Lockseed lit up briefly and a loud tearing noise brought their attention to the sky above them.

There, floating in the sky like someone had ripped it like paper, was a hole. They could see very little beyond the hole, except for what looked like a vast forest. Before they could even think about what that forest or the hole was, a creature – an Inves, exactly like the one from her notes – dropped out of the hole and landed next to them. They both recoiled at the sight of the creature: it was as big as they were and its bulbous upper torso was covered by gray chitin or carapace. Its arms were coated in the same natural armor, with each arm ending in a five-fingered hand with needle-like claws tipping each finger. Exposed green flesh covered most of its body, from its chest to its legs. Its face, swallowed up by the mounds of bulbous flesh and armor that sat on top of its body, had only the vaguest approximation of eyes and a pair of mandibles that quietly clicked together.

In his fright, Isaac nearly dropped the Lockseed, only to remember the warning from the notes, as well as what the rest of that entry had said. "Raise your right arm," he slowly and shakily commanded, wanting to see if what the Inves really would respond to commands. Sure enough, the creature held its right arm up. It was enough proof for him, and he turned to the woman with a small smile on his face. "Looks like we won't have to fight after all." He glanced back up at the sky, to see if more Inves were about to drop through, but it seemed to have already disappeared.

"Maybe," the woman muttered, still unnerved by the sight of the creature. "If nothing else, I suppose it could frighten them off. Still, I'll be ready to fight, just in case."

Isaac nodded, then pointed to the mouth of the alleyway. "Go out there, and chase off the three men out there," he said to the Inves. The creature chirruped and, with a speed belying its bulk, ran past the two of them and out onto the street. Almost immediately after they heard the frightened scream of one of the bandits, followed by something they were not expecting.

"Oh dear gods! It's an Inves!"

"They know about Inves?" the woman wondered quietly as she walked to the mouth of the alley, with Isaac right behind her. What they saw were the three bandits staring at the monster in stunned silence, before the archer finally turned and ran; the other two were right behind him moments later. "This isn't good, not at all."

The Inves, apparently feeling that its job was done, turned and waved at Isaac, happily clicking its mandibles together. Isaac dumbly nodded before turning to his companion. "Exactly how is it a bad thing that they know what the Inves are? If that one by itself was enough to get the three of them to run, we should be able to use it to chase the rest of the bandits out of town, right?"

With a firm shake of her head, the woman began to explain. "Not quite. Now I may be making a few leaps in logic here, but hear me out. The only way they could know about Inves is that they have dealt with Inves before, right?" When he nodded in agreement, she went on. "Now here's a question for you: _how do they know what an Inves is_?"

Isaac looked down at the Lockseed in his hand in understanding. "You think they may have Inves themselves."

"Not the men we just saw, but whoever is in charge of this raid might have a Lockseed. Which means he'll have an Inves. Which means this entire thing may have gotten a lot more difficult for everyone involved." Looking at the Inves, a crease formed in her brow. "They ran the moment they saw it. They didn't even try to attack, which tells me that they didn't think they would be able to hurt it. If those three couldn't harm it, how can we?"

Isaac said nothing but closed the Lockseed's shackle. Another tear opened up behind the Inves, which jumped right through without any preamble. The two watched as the tear closed back up, hiding the creature and its home from their eyes, before quietly continuing onward. As they walked further into Southtown, her final question hung over their heads like a weight ready to fall.


End file.
